...Then the fucking sprinkler system went off. The water shorted out LMNO's "special suit" and he started break dancing around with sparks flying off of him. Trip tried to help him, and next thing you know, he's doing the kickin' chicken, too. Thank God the suit is powered by batteries, right? They'll be fine when the capacitors stop discharging...
...All I was doing was getting another drink, right? And then Nigel screams something about a bigfoot and Goddamn bottles me right on the dome. I go crashing through the door into the kitchen, and ECH whacks me right in the beezer with this big fucking iron spatula. Shoulda put my clothes on first...
...Freeky and Knuckle's GF are beating the mortal shit out of Knuckles, while EOC and Suu place bets, and Richter shouts advice. SOMEONE TURN THAT FUCKING MUSIC DOWN! I DO NOT HAVE TO LISTEN TO REBECCA BLACK! WHAT KIND OF FUCKING PARTY IS THIS? Aw, fuck, here come those fucking iguanas again...
...Cain and Kai are playing chess again, but something's not right. Too fucked up to process it. Cain vomits rum all over the board, nobody cares. Game goes on. Every time Kai loses a piece, Phox sticks him with some kind of hypodermic needle, and he convulses for a few minutes. Something about SCIENCE and the effects of negative reinforcement on intelligence...
...Nigel's hitting people again. Thank God. Thought it was just me...
...Vex and Net are fighting for some reason. Vex is using Nast as a weapon, and Net is using Dr James Semaj. Someone just walked in. Looks like Moammar Ghaddafy in a Toronto Maple Leafs shirt. Oh, Christ, I don't have to put up with this shit. Going to go be sick for a while...
:lulz: ill have to travel to 2014 when i get home
"--banjos! Why the fuck do they all have banjos?"
"Never mind that, keep swimming."
...At that moment, I became painfully aware that Roger's description of Arizona ("Nothing is true; Everything is on fire") was about to manifest itself in the bidet next to the stairs...
...But what could I do? What would YOU do? I'm not getting close to that. The thing needs an OSHA warming and a toxic cleanup superfund. The answer was obvious. "Hey Dimo, could you come over here for a minute?"
... what do you mean you have run out of ice?!
... And why the GOOSE is Twid upside down in a vat of bourbon?
Payne decided to give me a swirly in some gross stuff. He forgot that i was also american and wouldnt mind bourbon. I decided to stay put awhile.
Day 1 FABULOUS levels dangerously critical.
It does not disperse.
It is only soluble in vodka, but such a solution has proven to antagonize the systemic form of FABULOUS.
Highly contagious.
Airborne.
Sexy.
Perhaps not extinction, but evolution level event.
Pervasive and self replicating FABULOUS.
Attaches itself to molecules of both Love and Hate, propagating until only FABULOUS REMAINS.
827,577 reported casualties, noticeable by by sheer glory and desire to spread FABULOUS.
Attempts to contain FABULOUS have led to spread of FABULOUS.
No known link to bath salts.
WHERE
did my mini skirt come from, and
WHY
am I talking like E.O.T.?
:mittens:
:lulz: with a flourish.
Glittersnatch was discovered later in a crawl-space, covered with vaseline, hysterically shaking with barely audible convulsions of laughter, with a monkey-wrenched remote control with entirely too many switches, levers, and dials.
I knew I was no match against Vex as he clearly had the more dangerous implement, even though he was holding it wrong, as Cainad helpfully pointed out. I stapled Dr. Semaj to my back as a protective vest, wrapped myself in the curtains before Suu could fashion them into something dangerous, and made a hasty escape galloping off into the woods on the back of Rod Stewart.
... Fuck these conventions. Ow.
... Can't find my glass eye. Blaming Net for now.
... UNNNNGH. Oh there it is. Yeah, fuck these conventions.
I blacked out and missed this whole thing.
On the plus side, I woke up in New Orleans. :fap:
I say a lot of stupid shit when I've been drinking, and while I have been drinking, I was only about 2/3rds through my first. I was talking to Payne about, of all things, the pros and cons of Philips head and flathead screwdrivers. But something about the conversation seemed to upset him and he glowered at me. I started trailing off, feeling more and more uncomfortable... and the bastard was the one who started on screwdrivers in the first place. Then next thing I know I'm swimming Australian style in a keg of bourbon. Where the shit did that come from anyway?
Well, if he wants a fight, I better drink down some of the fight that I've found myself in....
Why in the name of fuck am I wearing the kilt? Stylish and all, but realistically this is no time to have my junk even remotely exposed. ...and Freaky is still out and about with that fucking taser and the manic grin...
Damnit, just like an asthma attack, play it relaxed. These freaks are all at the "eat it if it smells afraid" stage of the night. Simple choice. Pull it off, or die horribly. Just like that sick professor of yours said, we're still here so there msut NOT have been global thermonuclear war YET, like a magical crystal ball.
It's time for another drink, but the choices are Perrier (Seriously?), and the "punch". So I grab a bottle of the sparkling fru fru, but Cram's apparently raided the TEAM VODKA pill stash, and there's a mandatory dose taped under each attempt to level out my headmeat. AM I about to get an upper, a downer, or a one way trip to a duct-tape thonged and sharpie'd tomorrow (At best)? Fuck it down the hatch.
...Screaming out the window of a too yellow cab, waving a machete, as the driver fires off a burst of obscene but highly amused spanish, egging me on. Thank providence for the yoga, or I wouldnt have the abs to lean out that far and hamstring everyone wearing low slung pance.
And I'm on the couch, yelling for garbo to stop talking and gut the fucker. Who put on skype at this hour? What in hell is Trip saying? Yes, of course the mascara is running, whenever that happened, and no I have no idea where WAffle Iron's hat is. A man in blue, boed look and tin star, mentions almost offhand something about me being too bombed to have done half the shit and leaves with his partner. I try to object but it all comes out like a bad scatman john imitation. I will be sore tomorrow.
I wonder who won that chess game?
Breathing some fresh air, grass, I wandered, and then a door.
CRAMULUS?!!! I thought you left months ago?
"Quiet. I'm operating behind the scenes."
That's ... not an operating table. That's not a scalpel. And I don't think that guy is sedated properly.
"What you mean, properly? He's sedated allright ..."
Um, yeah. Hey I'll bring you another beer when I get back later ok?
"Got any more of that Bud-Clamato stuff maybe?"
...
I walked away. That was not Cramulus. Everybody else was whoever they are, even if it wasn't in their own clothes. But I know one thing. No sentient being, no matter how drunk, or inebriated on whatever drugs known in this dimension, nothing would ever ask for MORE of that "Bud-Clamato stuff", maybe.
Fucking hell. And I was just going to do some Weapon-X shots with Richter.
Okay, figuring this out ... I pointed some n00bs the other way, see what happens, and do some shots in the mean time. Because DAMN that Weapon-X shit is good. No sense in letting some extra-dimensional doppelcrammer ruin a chance to taste some more of that extremely rare liquor.
I giggled as I heard the screams starting ... we're going to need more n00bs.
I saw him die. I swore I saw him die. And then there he was. Handing me another drink with a big grin.
The Pool on the Roof was there. No, it wasn't a pool party. Someone brought the Pool on the Roof. Tile by tile. Cup by cup. Flaming tire by flaming tire.
I pulled myself out of the bourbon after I felt I had gotten a couple of good glugs in, and pulled myself out. I would need to change my clothes. But not now. Gotta deliver the pain to Payne.
I get up, take a swing, and he's already fucking gone. I do, however stumble forward from the momentum into a Dutchman deep in thought.
"Trip?" says I to the mop of hair, sunglasses and a rolled cigarette.
"I thought you quit smoking."
"Yeah well, I just got a reason to start again. Look, I might need your help. Do something about your clothes first though."
At that, Coyote cackled and goaded me to strip down completely. Said something about being comfortable in my own room. But this wasn't my room, was it?
"Trip... where do I live?"
"Boston, of course."
"Not Somerville?"
"No, not anymore."
"Are we in Boston?"
"No, Twid. We are most certainly NOT in Boston."
We're not in Boston?! Holy crap!
I smoke five extra cigarettes just because my non-fictional self cannot.
Damn you, Twid.
Quote from: Triple Zero on June 30, 2012, 12:36:13 AM
We're not in Boston?! Holy crap!
I smoke five extra cigarettes just because my non-fictional self cannot.
Damn you, Twid.
We might be in Cambridge. Or maybe in 2014 Boston is some sort of metaphor and you misunderstood my meaning. Also, the Cram thing has you unnerved. Not my fault you fell off the wagon.
...things are blurry...roger's doing something like a jig atop the coffee table...people are screaming...or is that laughter...
...woke up face down in the back yard, kiki still going on inside...checked for wallet/keys/phone and came up with two handfuls of alfalfa sprouts...Ratatosk sat on the fence, drunkenly reciting eastern poetry, and seeing me wake asked if i wanted some acid...considering the circumstances i politely declined...
...DANCE, MOTHERFUCKERS, DANCE!! I- oh god where's the toilet - here? that's a fucking paper shredder...JESUS...it'll have to do...
...went upstairs to gather myself, quietly sat by the window - looking out, saw cramulus sitting against the chimney, speaking lovingly to a king kong piñata, backlit by the moon like elliott and E.T....
In a corner, curled up in a fetal position, I cry: I SHOULD'VE CHOSEN FURRYDOM INSTEAD OF THE FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS REENACTMENT SOCIETY OR WHAT THE FRAK THIS SHIT IS.
Quote from: TEXAS FAIRIES FOR ALL YOU SPAGS on June 30, 2012, 12:11:48 AM
I blacked out and missed this whole thing.
On the plus side, I woke up in New Orleans. :fap:
Trip actually clobbered you early in the night. One minute we're having a great time punting trolls back into the forest, talking about how sassafras oil is illegal but makes the best potato hash when that wily Dutchman just comes out of nowhere, screeching into his vocoder about "now everybody know, 'black superman,'" and does a vicious flying headbutt at you before anyone knew what was happening.
Ignoring Coyote's apparent desire to see me in the buff, I started to head upstairs to get a change of clothes. St. Daniel Ouellette is playing She Went to a Moustache Party (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR-Gy0vtbCM) and handing out fake moustaches. I forgot he was sainted after that incident in 2013. It makes sense that he's here, but was it me or LMNO that brought him? Maybe it was Villager. Where is Villager anyway? Never mind, I stink and I'm wet.
Lenin's tripping balls.
"You okay dude?"
"Det er alt feil. Alt det er feil. Hvorfor ser det sånn? Hvorfor er det å gjøre det?"
I look around for Waffle Iron. He's dancing with Daniel. When Saint Daniel decides to dance with you, there is no cutting in.
Sorry dude. I don't know what you're talking about. I'll come back for you.
I walk into the bedroom... Books... Bodhran... Brid's Cross over the door... Bucking Iron Maiden paraphenalia... Bee-less but B-ful Bedroom
This... this is my room... But.... We're not in Bost... we must Be... Boston Begins with B. By Breas' Big Black Bonce.... Everything is Bolded... Bhat bid Boyote bo bo be? eberything bas a b.....
Snap out of it Twid....
I feel funny but not in the bourbon way. Shake it off. I put on my Anarchangel t-shirt to remind me that I'm one step ahead of the b's.
So the question is... if this is not Boston, how is it that this is my room?
... and time fell wanking to the floor. I hoist my skirt and do a slightly unstable riverdance on the table where all the Nigels and TGRR sit.
Surprisingly, I don't fall. I do, however, jump over the head of Nigel #45, crash land into a bucket of sangria, and decide to wear it as a hat.
"Now where did I put my banjolele", I think loudly to myself.
But before I can remember, Twid & Tripzilch start using my fucking bucket hat as a drum set. FUCK YOU GUYS. Seriously. At least gimme a drink first. I ain't expensive.
Also, hi Daniel!
(Daniel gets an alert everytime his name is mentioned online). Wish I was in Providence with you right now.
(btw this is the new Open Bar thread and this is how it will go and it will last for 300 pages of FABULOUS and then we will start over)
I only regretted slipping Twid and Lenin the cactus when he started taking off his clothes, but it was worth it to see people cower in terror as he shuffled into the outhouse, mumbling something about his room.
I went to follow him but heard some blood-curdling shrieks far off in the distance. "Oh god no, not the needles!" Cram's voice, I think, and I went back inside to resume squaring off with Vex.
Lenin wasn't handling it so well so I gave RWHN a call...
This thread is so much win
I escape from drum hell, and find my fellow countryman lying in a hip like so many discarded washcloths.
"oh dear, we need to give him something to drink. where's the mezcal?"
I see Net furiously giving me the cutthroat sign, but I write it off as a cultural difference in ways to say HELLOSIRFABULOUSPARTY INNIT?
I drag Lenin towards the Mezcal tent.
I walked back down to Trip.
"OK, I'm ready."
"Uh ready for what?"
"I changed my clothes"
"Not.... entirely...."
I looked down. I was only wearing the Anarchangel shirt.
Well... everyone now knows that I am in fact a European, and not in anyway Jewish....
Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 12:58:30 AM
Quote from: TEXAS FAIRIES FOR ALL YOU SPAGS on June 30, 2012, 12:11:48 AM
I blacked out and missed this whole thing.
On the plus side, I woke up in New Orleans. :fap:
Trip actually clobbered you early in the night. One minute we're having a great time punting trolls back into the forest, talking about how sassafras oil is illegal but makes the best potato hash when that wily Dutchman just comes out of nowhere, screeching into his vocoder about "now everybody know, 'black superman,'" and does a vicious flying headbutt at you before anyone knew what was happening.
Thanks, now it makes sense.
Just one thing...how did I get a pocketful of fucking TEETH?
Quote from: TEXAS FAIRIES FOR ALL YOU SPAGS on June 30, 2012, 01:34:39 AM
Quote from: Net on June 30, 2012, 12:58:30 AM
Quote from: TEXAS FAIRIES FOR ALL YOU SPAGS on June 30, 2012, 12:11:48 AM
I blacked out and missed this whole thing.
On the plus side, I woke up in New Orleans. :fap:
Trip actually clobbered you early in the night. One minute we're having a great time punting trolls back into the forest, talking about how sassafras oil is illegal but makes the best potato hash when that wily Dutchman just comes out of nowhere, screeching into his vocoder about "now everybody know, 'black superman,'" and does a vicious flying headbutt at you before anyone knew what was happening.
Thanks, now it makes sense.
Just one thing...how did I get a pocketful of fucking TEETH?
I can explain that... sort of...
I have this friend from high school named Salvatore. He once did a science project involving the effects of soda on human teeth. Since he was the only Sicilian in our group, and we were all Irish, we asked him, accusingly, how he got the teeth. He said his dad, who we all know as a legitimate businessman, which is why they have cars, motorcycles and a boat, saved his and his siblings baby teeth.
Plausible. Plausible....
He once had a pool party (none of us had pools in our back yards) where all of his Irish friends showed up and we listened to Number of the Beast while fucking around in chlorinated water. His father asked him when he came in to pee why he hung out with so many potato suckers and not other Italians.
Long story short, you asked for the teeth. I knew a guy.
Thanks...I think.
There's pretty big for baby teeth. But hey, I got a gold one. Can't complain.
Where the fuck did Lenin go and why do I have red blotches on my chest? Wait. that's ketchup. Why the heck do I have ketchup on my chest? Where am I. WHY DO I SMELL BURNING RUBBER? AND WHY ARE MY FEET WET?
Quote from: TEXAS FAIRIES FOR ALL YOU SPAGS on June 30, 2012, 02:33:24 AM
Thanks...I think.
There's pretty big for baby teeth. But hey, I got a gold one. Can't complain.
Sah-loo-tay.
Also, you should jump in a pool while listening to "Invaders" and "Gangland." It helps you remember just how serious life is. :lulz:
ETA: not "Hallowed Be Thy Name" though. That shows you just how
serious life is, which, spoils the pool party.
I jump into the pool, listening to Gloomy Sunday (Diamanda Galas version) and land on top of the water. Or whatever this semi-solid liquid is. I scream.
And all we could hear was the sound of 808 identical cowbells hit with microsecond precision.
It was quite a buzz. And a moan. And a croaking.
Cowbells always have this weird sound that is not like a bell at all.
We tried to dance but our kneecaps got stuck in time. All is One. All was Reverb. But then I saw Cainad and Squiddy, each on top of a hill, with the obligatory lightning prongs behind them, they had no trouble at all, but they also had WAY too many knees ...
{Suu asked me when my hair turned white, and I was about to explain about the time Hoopla showed me what he really does for a living but then the screaming started and I couldn't stop}
{my god! I've never seen a man DO that with his penis before!}
{Daruko out of nowhere, rappelling down the side of the... thing... in that rainbow ape suit he's been wearing all the time ever since he got back from Peru}
{all the horses. So. Many. Fucking. Horses}
{we're out of club soda? NOW how am I supposed to get the blood out?}
{tossed a grenade at me and shouted "CATCH!" but I saw it coming and did a duck-and-roll just in time}
{he'll NEVER get all that glitter out of his pelt}